


Pancakes, Flowers and Cocoa

by DawnOfTomorrow



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 01:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: He was back again, was all she could think about when she entered her flat. She could sense the man’s presence as surely as she could smell the scent of blood that accompanied him.





	Pancakes, Flowers and Cocoa

He was back again, was all she could think about when she entered her flat. She could sense the man’s presence as surely as she could smell the scent of blood that accompanied him whenever he came by. Dropping her bag, she quickly removed her weapons pouches and knives from herself, as well as taking off her jewellery.

Slowly, with purposely loud steps, she walked to her bedroom. As expected, there he was, crouched near her bed, a feral growl in his throat. Relaxing as much as possible, she reached out her hand – a heartbeat later, he was on her, ripping off her clothing with his hands, his teeth, anything to get to her skin faster.

She was thrown on her bed roughly, teeth hard against her neck. He didn’t break her skin – never did – as she felt his hands explore her body. There wasn’t much need for it – he’d learned it pretty well in the several dozen times this had happened. Fully dressed in an ANBU uniform except for his unzipped fly, he spread her legs, kneeling between them and pushed forward. Suppressing a gasp, she fought down the impulse to fight him, relaxing her body instead. 

Two painful thrusts later, his touch changed, like it always did. He became gentler, instead of practically forcing himself into her, he touched her, making her receptive to his touches. Gently kissing the bite-mark he’d left, she could pinpoint the exact moment the killer in her bed changed back into a man. It wasn’t a transformation she enjoyed, but it was one she was familiar with – and she was glad for.

If it wasn’t for this odd change, she would have likely been killed by him long ago – not that that wasn’t a distinct possibility anyway. Feeling her body respond to his touches, she moaned softly. He liked it when she did and it wasn’t exactly like she was pretending either – his touch DID feel good.

It didn’t take long – never did – until he slid out of her and laid down by her side, still fully dressed, dried blood on his uniform – she bought sheets in bulk so she could throw them away every time this happened.

This time it was a little different from normal – where normally he disappeared after an hour or two casual touches or simply laying next to her, this time he stayed. Knowing she was safe now, she got out of bed to shower and clean herself up – it hurt less than she’d feared this time.

Going back to bed, she found him still there, waiting, holding the blanket up for her, himself on top of it. She slid under it wordlessly, turning her back to the ANBU even as he pressed a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

Shivering in the cold of the room, she wasn’t surprised to find that the man behind her barely emitted any warmth at all. But, that was just the way it was, and that was okay. After all, tomorrow morning he would be gone, a fresh set of sheets would be sitting on the chair next to the bed and pancakes and cocoa would be waiting in the kitchen, a fresh batch of flowers sitting in a vase.

And then, an hour or so later, her husband would be slipping into the kitchen, checking on her, making sure the ANBU hadn’t hurt her the night before. It wasn’t something she enjoyed, not at all, but it was part of her life, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t agreed to it – she’d known about this side of his life before she’d married the man after all.

Still though, every time this happened, she prayed that this time was the last one. That the Hokage would let him retire, wouldn’t send him on another mission, that she could be with her sweet, gentle, lazy and perverted husband, and didn’t have to worry about the killer that lived in his skin sometimes.  
They both knew it wasn’t good for him, for her or for them, but they were both shinobi, and orders were orders – plus, it wasn’t like it was forever. One way or another, eventually things would change.

‘Duty’ would claim one of them, probably him, maybe her, and then there’d be no more pancakes, no more torn clothes, and spoiled sheets, and then whoever was left would be alone in the bed, crying at the memory of when they were miserable together, because even being miserable was better than being alone – she knew that, even as she was falling asleep with the scent of blood tickling her nose.

Knowing the next thing she’d smell would be pancakes, flowers, and cocoa, she closed her eyes with a smile – after all, the nights were never as dark in the mornings, she thought to herself as she dripped off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to imagine the Anbu in this as whatever member you like... I had a specific one in mind when I wrote it, but it's really up to you :-)


End file.
